


Bound by Duty

by trishapocalypse



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have a duty to my father, Merlin, and to my family—one that doesn’t include you." The words that Merlin had always feared had finally surfaced, and he knew exactly how to deal with being slighted by his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound by Duty

Merlin Emrys learned a long time ago that regrets were useless. He didn't regret dating Freya, dabbling in curious teenage bisexuality with Will, and lying to his mother about that one little party he threw (that he honestly didn't expect Arthur to invite _everything_ he knew and, okay, he didn't expect Arthur to get so pissed and break his mothers favorite lamp). And as much as it pained him to admit, he didn't even regret dating Arthur Pendragon. But being his dirty little secret? The disgust Merlin felt towards himself was the closest thing to regret that he ever experienced.

 

It wasn't that Arthur was a bad person (because he wasn't...or, well, not all of the time anyway). He was just...under a lot of pressure. Hell, Merlin couldn't even begin to fathom the stress Arthur was under on a daily basis—couldn’t even _try_. Arthur was going to law school and was going to be a big shot and fulfill all of Uther's hopes and dreams.

 

And when Arthur said that Merlin didn't fit into those hopes and dreams, he wasn't even surprised. (Okay, he was hurt and went on a three day bender, drinking and pouring out his heart and soul to Gwen and Morgana who acted surprised but secretly knew all along about their romance. And, okay. It was a terrible and bad idea to try to drink the entire past two years away but, dammit, Merlin was going to try.) But more than anything, Merlin was just...hurt. Dejected was probably the most appropriate word to use. But he handled it with the grace Hunith instilled in him at a young age and told Arthur that he understood, wished him well, gave him a pathetically chaste kiss on the cheek, and left.

 

(He called Morgana the next day and begged, _begged_  her to pack up his stuff when Arthur was at work and bring it to him so he didn't have to see the room that he had spent so much time in. She did, without question. Because even though she was Arthur's half-sister, she was also Merlin's friend and knew how big of a prat Arthur could be.)

 

Five years later, Merlin had moved past the "but why did we actually have to _break up,_ Morgana? Why can't he just stand up to his father?" and was now overcome with a complacency that only a dream life could bring.

 

Okay, his life wasn't exactly perfect. But it didn't have to be. He had a rather lovely apartment in New York City (a far cry from perpetually dismal London). He was working for a publishing company where his boss actually valued his opinion (or, well, he convinced himself that Mr. Gaius cared). He had an unhealthy obsession with the little Italian place one block from his apartment that delivered. He had a best friend who uprooted her entire life when he said he wanted to leave London so that he would have a roommate named Gwen, who was one of the main reasons he handled the Arthur Situation so well (minus his bender) who also worked with him. And he had a rather spectacularly slutty-but-fantastic-with-his-mouth friends-with-benefits gentleman named Gwaine (who was, actually, anything _but_  a gentleman when Merlin really thought about it).

 

All in all, Merlin loved his life. Which was something he would not have been able to say five years prior. But he had adopted a new philosophy of "everything happens for a reason, even if it takes years and years and countless one night stands to figure it out." And he had a new philosophy of _not_ thinking about Arthur more than once a day. (Because, really, it had been _five years_  and he should have been able to move on. It wasn't as if they were in love or anything... Well, unrequited love didn't count, he decided, and he'd be damned if he let their...brief dalliance run his life.) (Though. It still kind of did. Because Merlin was, and always would be, hopelessly in love with Arthur.)  
  
“Merlin, darling, what are you doing Thursday night?” Gwen asked through the shower curtain.  
  
Merlin shook his head—sometimes she had no sense of propriety. “Gwen—I’m a little busy right now.”  
  
Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you naked plenty of times, Merlin. Unless you’re having a wank—in which case, I apologize for interrupting—it’s not a big deal. So…”  
  
“So?”  
  
“Are you having a wank?”  
  
Blood rushing to his cheeks, Merlin scoffed. “ _No,_ Gwen, I’m not having a wank.”  
  
“Then you’re free Thursday night?”  
  
With a sigh, Merlin poked his head out from behind the shower curtain. “That depends on why you’re asking me.”  
  
Gwen smiled. “I want you to meet Lance.”  
  
Merlin ducked back behind the shower curtain. “Ah, yes, the elusive Lance.”  
  
“He’s not elusive. You’re just never here when he visits.”  
  
“I have a very demanding job—“  
  
“No, you have a job that you’re a slave to because you never want to be home.”  
  
“I like being home—“  
  
“And when you are, you’re always working,” Gwen interrupted.  
  
“I like being busy,” Merlin said defensively.  
  
Gwen sighed and sat down on the lid of the toilet. “Merlin, I know… _that_ time of year is coming up…and you don’t like thinking about Arthur, I understand. But piling yourself with multiple manuscripts _and_ writing your first book _and_ ghost writing articles… Don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”  
  
Merlin poured some shampoo into his hands and worked it through his dark hair. “That’s not why I do this,” he muttered lamely.   
  
Gwen put her hands up in defense even though he couldn’t see her. “I’d just…really like you to meet him.”  
  
Merlin stuck his head out of the shower curtain. “I’ll be free Thursday night for you. But only if you don’t bring Arthur up again.”  
  
Gwen smiled and jumped up, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “You’re the best!”  
  
He rolled his eyes and ducked under the hot spray of water, washing the shampoo out of his hair. “Yeah, yeah.”  
  
  
+  
  
  
“You’re leaving early today, Merlin,” Mr. Gaius commented as Merlin was packing up his satchel.  
  
Merlin paused and glanced at the time on his computer. “It’s almost six thirty—“  
  
Mr. Gaius smiled. “I was making a joke. Us old timers can do that sometimes, you know.”  
  
Merlin shook his head and logged off of his computer, buckling up his satchel. “Sorry, sir, I just have a dinner.”  
  
“Have fun. Just don’t be late tomorrow.”  
  
Merlin sent him a mock salute. “Of course not, Mr. Gaius, I would never—“ he paused upon seeing his boss’ smile. “That was another joke, wasn’t it?”  
  
Mr. Gaius nodded. “Have a good night.”  
  
“Thank you.” Merlin made his way to the lift, digging his phone out of his pocket and texting Gwen to let her know that he was leaving work and that he would meet her at the restaurant. He stepped into the lift, not surprised when Gwaine ran in next to him.  
  
“What time should I be at yours?”  
  
Merlin paused. “Sorry?”  
  
“It’s Thursday,” Gwaine told him. “Gwen is always out with her beau, so…what time should I be over?”  
  
“Oh, I…can’t tonight,” he told him. “I’m meeting her beau.”  
  
“Ah,” Gwaine announced, pressing the button that would take them to the lobby. “I can always come over late.”  
  
Merlin felt a slight blush creeping up the back of his neck. “I’ll ring you when I’m headed home?”  
  
Gwaine smirked and Merlin was instantly reminded as to _why_  he started his whole… _thing_ with Gwaine. “Sounds perfect,” he told him as the lift doors opened and he walked out into the lobby. “I’ll see you tonight.”  
  
  
+  
  
  
“Hello, I am so, so sorry I’m late,” Merlin announced as he finally walked towards the table at the way-too-fancy restaurant Gwen told him to meet her at.  
  
Gwen stood and embraced Merlin, rubbing him on the back encouragingly. “It’s alright, Merlin,” she told him before kissing his cheek. “You look dashing.”  
  
Merlin flushed slightly. “Thank you. You look radiant as ever.” And she did—she had brushed her hair back into a low bun at the nape of her neck and wore her favorite purple cocktail dress. Merlin could easily see why Lance was staring at her as if she were his world.  
  
“Oh, and this is Lance,” Gwen introduced. “Lance, this is my best friend, Merlin.”  
  
Lance stuck his hand out, giving Merlin a firm handshake. “Merlin. It’s nice to put a face with the name that Gwen mentions so often.”  
  
Merlin smiled. “Same here. You are…unreasonably handsome,” he said before he could stop himself.  
  
Lance laughed. “Yes, I can see why Gwen thinks you so charming. Thank you.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have blurted that out, my apologies,” Merlin said with a slight, uncomfortable laugh.  
  
“It’s quite alright,” Lance assured him. “Please, sit.”  
  
Merlin did so and thoughtfully looked over at the man that Gwen was so smitten with. “So…how did you two meet?”  
  
“Melin,” Gwen said, resting her hand on his forearm. “I’ve told you that already.”  
  
“I just want to make sure your stories match,” Merlin said innocently.  
  
Lance smiled. “It’s quite alright, darling.”  
  
Merlin listened to his story, nodding graciously, only halfway paying attention the words that Lance was saying as he stared lovingly into Gwen’s eyes. They were adorable, that was obvious, and Merlin couldn’t even be bothered. He glanced around the restaurant, vaguely aware of his surroundings. It wasn’t that he was bored, he simply found himself…distracted.   
  
_“This way, Mr. Pendragon, your table is in the back—the best one in the house.”_  
  
Merlin froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He turned slowly towards the sound of the hostess’ voice. And he was not prepared for what he saw next.   
  
Of course he hadn’t aged a day. His hair was still golden blond, shining and soft, swept over his forehead. He looked older, in his black suit and tie, escorting a woman with equally blonde hair and blue eyes. He leaned over and whispered something in her ear before their eyes met. If he was shocked, he hid it well, and Merlin only hoped his face didn’t betray the emotions welling up inside of him.  
  
Merlin whipped his head back around quickly, hoping he could play it off smoothly but he knew that was impossible.  
  
“Merlin—are you okay?” Gwen asked worried.  
  
“Arthur is here,” he whispered, unaware of how breathless he sounded.  
  
“Are you—“  
  
“I have to go, I’m so sorry,” Merlin said, standing up quickly. He threw some notes on the table to cover the drink he had ordered and kissed Gwen’s cheek. “It was lovely meeting you, Lance.”  
  
Lance stood, shaking his hand. “You as well,” he told him.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Merlin repeated before grabbing his satchel from the floor and heading out the door. He walked quickly, wanting to put as many meters between him and Arthur Pendragon as humanly possible.   
  
_“Merlin!”_  
  
“This is not happening, this is not happening,” Merlin repeated softly to himself. He kept walking. Arthur could yell as much as he wanted—it was time _he_ felt what it was like to have someone walk away from him. It was then Merlin realized that…he wasn’t over Arthur. But even with that realization, he kept walking down the busy New York City sidewalk in hopes he could disappear into the crowd.  
  
It didn’t work.  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur declared, grabbing his arm and causing him to stop walking.  
  
Merlin turned around slowly, meeting those bright blue eyes that he once would have done anything for. “Arthur, I didn’t see you there,” Merlin said, plastering a fake smile on his face.  
  
“I’ve been calling your name and chasing you for two blocks,” Arthur pointed out.  
  
“Have you?” he asked. “I didn’t realize.”  
  
“And…you saw me in the restaurant. You remember? Thirty seconds before you ran out of there as if your life depended on it?”  
  
“Was that you?” Merlin asked, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
“You knew it was me, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin frowned. “Well, fine, since we all know how much you love to be right, yes, I knew it was you. Does that make you feel better?”  
  
“Yes, but it doesn’t explain why you ran from me,” Arthur said quietly.   
  
There was something in his eyes that Merlin couldn’t quite place. “I—I got an important call,” Merlin said.  
  
“Did you?”  
  
He was doing that thing again. That t _hing_  where he knew when Merlin was lying, could read him like an open book—he always had. “Yes. My job is very…demanding.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Why are you in New York?” Merlin blurted out before he could stop himself.  
  
Arthur rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Business.”  
  
“Of course. What sort of business?”  
  
“I work here. Father set up a new office, and I’m here to make sure everything is running smoothly.”  
  
Merlin bit the inside of his cheek. Arthur reached up towards his collar to loosen his tie; he felt a wave of bitterness that he wasn’t expecting. “So of course you run and do whatever your father tells you to do,” he snapped.  
  
Arthur’s eyes widened but he recovered quickly. “I wouldn’t expect  _you_  to understand familial obligations, Merlin. You were the one to always do whatever you wanted.”  
  
Merlin scoffed. “I’m not having this discussion with you right now, Arthur,” he snapped.   
  
“Then when can we have it?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Never,” Merlin said, turning and walking away.  
  
Arthur kept up with him easily. Merlin might have had the longer legs but Arthur spent two years of his life matching his strides—it wasn’t something he forgot how to do. “I think we need to talk, Merlin.”  
  
“Funny, because I think we don’t.”  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur said with a sigh, reaching for his arm.  
  
Merlin jerked his arm away quickly. “Don’t.”  
  
“Merlin,” he repeated. “Please.”  
  
“I understand that getting rejected or denied doesn’t happen often with you Pendragons,” Merlin began, “but I am _not_  having this conversation with you. Not now, not ever. You were the one who wanted out, and you got what you wanted. Now, _please_ , leave me be,” he told him before walking over to the sidewalk, catching a cab, and leaving Arthur standing on the busy New York sidewalk alone.   
  
  
+  
  
  
Merlin was not in the mood to see Gwaine. He didn’t call him or respond to any of his texts. When he got back to his apartment, he opened up a bottle of wine, poured a very generous glass, before he climbed into the bathtub. There were more bubbles than necessary, and the water was hot enough to make him cringe, but he needed the distraction.   
  
The water had grown cold and Merlin found himself wishing he had brought the bottle into the bathroom with him when he heard the door unlock and open. “Gwen?” he called out. “I thought you were going home with Lance.”  
  
Gwen appeared in the doorway, a frown on her perpetually happy face. “You really think I’d leave you alone after that?” she asked, kicking off her heels and kneeling next to the bathtub.  
  
“I’m sorry you left Lance—“  
  
“Lance is right here,” he announced, walking into the bathroom and carrying a bottle of wine.  
  
“God bless you,” Merlin said, holding out his glass.  
  
Lance filled it completely before he set it by the sink, sitting down on top of the toilet seat. “Gwen was too worried to eat, so we left and came here. Are you alright?”  
  
Merlin took a deep drink of the wine before looking at Gwen. “Oh, Gwen, it was horrible,” he admitted softly. “I never thought I’d see him again, and then he appeared out of _nowhere_ , and I wasn’t prepared for it and he wanted to _talk_ ,” he said with a scoff. “Really? Like there’s anything else that he has to say to me—“  
  
“Merlin,” Gwen interrupted softly. “He came to talk to me when he got back to the restaurant.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Gwen.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry.”  
  
“What did the prat want? Did he want to boast about his new job and his new lady? He makes me sick. All he does is what Uther wants—he’s never done anything because he wanted to—“  
  
“He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry,” Gwen told him. “And begged me for your number.”  
  
Merlin scoffed. “Arthur Pendragon doesn’t beg.”  
  
“Well…he sounded desperate. Didn’t he, Lance?”  
  
Lance nodded. “And he did say ‘please’ about fifteen times,” he added.  
  
Merlin paused. “That really doesn’t make me feel any better.”  
  
Gwen reached out and smoothed the hair from her best friend’s forehead. “I’m sorry you ran into him…”  
  
“Me, too,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t prepared. Of course, I don’t think anything could have prepared me for it…”  
  
“You still love him,” she stated.  
  
With a sigh, Merlin nodded.  
  
“And you’ll never stop,” she added. “Arthur was…is…the one for you, Merlin.”  
  
“He—“  
  
“Was in a bad situation and handled it in the worst possible way,” Gwen told him.  
  
“He told me I was a mistake—one he couldn’t make again, one that was unforgivable. _I have a duty to my father, Merlin, and to my family—one that doesn’t include you_ ,” he recited the words that had plagued his mind for five years. “If he truly felt anything for me, he would have—“  
  
“He didn’t have a choice,” Gwen said.  
  
“Are you defending him?” Merlin asked incredulously, shaking his head.  
  
“Of course not,” she told him. “I’m just… He was in a horrible situation. What he did to you was horrible. But maybe you should hear him out before writing him off completely.”  
  
“I wrote him off years ago, Gwen. I can’t just give him a second chance because he was  _stressed._  You don’t run at the first sight of problems, you communicate and try to fix them,” he told her.  
  
Gwen sent him a look.  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes again. “Oh, come off it, Gwen, you _know_  I meant that you communicate in a _relationship._  Which Arthur made it very clear that we were not in.”  
  
“What if he wants to try again?” Lance asked.  
  
Merlin sent him a death look he normally only reserved for Morgana when she got off on one of her tangents.  
  
Lance held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just stating a possibility.”  
  
“He does _not_  want to try again.”  
  
“Do you?” Lance asked him.  
  
“Why would you ask me that?” Merlin asked incredulously.  
  
“Well, you were quick to say that _Arthur_  wouldn’t want to try again…”  
  
Merlin looked at Gwen. “Both of you need to leave. I want to get out of this tub, finish a bottle of wine, watch Doctor Who, and cry myself to sleep.”  
  
Gwen kissed his forehead and stood up. “We’ll be in my room if you need us—“  
  
“No, no,” Merlin said quietly. “Use the living room. I’ll stay in my room and sulk. No need to ruin your evening even further.”  
  
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Gwen assured him.  
  
Merlin sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, well, great first impression I made, huh, mate?”  
  
Lance just smiled because he was just ridiculously polite like that.   
  
  
+  
  
  
“You never called me last night.”  
  
Merlin jumped at the sound of Gwaine’s voice, spilling a little bit of milk on the counter. A curse fell from his lips and he picked up a napkin, cleaning up his spill, before finishing his tea.   
  
“Did you get in late?” Gwaine asked.  
  
“Not exactly,” Merlin said.  
  
“You look like shit.”  
  
Merlin laughed. “Thanks, mate. Had a rough night.”  
  
“I can tell. Are you hung over?” Gwaine asked.  
  
“Only a little,” Merlin admitted before taking a deep drink of his tea. “Is Gaius in yet?”  
  
“He’s in a meeting now. He did not look happy.”  
  
With a sigh, Merlin ran a hand through his hair and straightened his tie. “Better get over there then.”  
  
Gwaine reached for his arm. “We should do something tonight.”  
  
Merlin looked down at his hand, and then met his eyes. “I’ll ring you.”  
  
“Will you actually this time?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.   
  
Merlin rolled his eyes.  
  
“I’ll be at yours at midnight if you don’t call me. Wear something sexy,” Gwaine told him with a wink.  
  
Merlin flushed lightly and nodded, bidding him farewell before making his way to his cubicle. He set his tea down and opened up his emails, hoping to catch up a little bit before Mr. Gaius yelled for him. Of course, that wasn’t going to work, because the second he opened the first email, his name was being bellowed from the large office across the hall. He stood and picked up his notebook and pen, just in case he needed to take notes, and walked into Mr. Gaius’ office, biting back a curse when he did so.  
  
Because fucking _Arthur Pendragon_ was sitting across from his boss. Because, really, why _wouldn’t_ he be there, Merlin thought to himself.   
  
“Yes, sir?” Merlin asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and polite.  
  
“Mr. Emrys, as of this morning, I found out that Mr. King’s publishing company is suing us and one of our author’s for plagiarism,” Mr. Gaius started.  
  
“Which author?”  
  
“Morgause,” he told him. “Now, as you and I both know this isn’t true, since you are the one who poured over her manuscript for months, we shouldn’t have a problem. Her novel was written two years before this imposter, but the promise of a lawsuit is one that our company cannot afford. Therefore, I’ve hired Mr. Pendragon to represent us throughout this case.” Mr. Gaius stood and walked over to Merlin, lowering his voice. “Do try to wipe that look off your face and smile, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Pendragon.”  
  
Arthur smiled, settling back in his chair slightly as if he found the entire situation amusing. “The sentiment is returned, Mr. Emrys.”  
  
“Since you worked exclusively with Morgause, you’ll be the one who represents the company. Mr. Pendragon here has graciously offered to meet with you, take down all of your information and your statement. He’ll do all of the hard work, of course,” Mr. Gaius said.  
  
“I always do the hard work, Gaius, you know that,” Arthur told him with a smile.  
  
Mr. Gaius smiled. “You’ve always been a tenacious worker. I’m glad you happened to be stateside when this happened.”  
  
“Yes, well, you know how my father is.”  
  
“All too well,” Mr. Gaius agreed. “Now, I suggest you two get started.”  
  
“The preliminary statement should only take a couple of hours at most,” Arthur told him. “We should be done by after lunch.”  
  
“No, no, take the whole day, I implore you. I can pass off Merlin’s duties to another employee. This lawsuit needs to be settled quickly. We can’t risk a scandal for our company,” Mr. Gaius said.  
  
Merlin found himself nodding and agreeing in all the right places. All he really wanted to do was to tell Arthur to sod off and throw up. But he knew Gaius, and there was no way he was getting out of this situation at all.   
  
“Of course. My firm is the best,” Arthur assured him. “We’ll get this settled out of court. As long as Mr. Emrys cooperates.”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I?” Merlin snapped.  
  
“Merlin,” Mr. Gaius said in a quiet, warning tone.  
  
“In lawsuits, Mr. Emrys, you really learn which side of the fence people are on. However, if Gaius trusts you, then I’m sure you’ll prove to be an important asset in winning this case,” Arthur said evenly.   
  
“I’m on Gaius’ side,” Merlin said, “though I think that goes without saying.”  
  
“You two can head out now and start going over all of the information,” Mr. Gaius said.   
  
“Sir, I have emails and meetings and—“  
  
“I’ll pass them off to Gwaine or Freya. Don’t worry about those, Merlin. This lawsuit is your priority. I don’t want your head anywhere else, okay?”  
  
Merlin nodded. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Good. Now go.”  
  
Merlin bit the inside of his cheek as he walked from the office; Arthur only four steps behind him. He got to his cubicle and sat down in his chair, logging off of his computer and throwing his stuff in his bag.  
  
“Now, now, you don’t seem too happy to see me,” Arthur said, a mocking lilt to his voice.  
  
“I’m not,” Merlin said quietly. He threw the strap of his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his cup of tea. “Let’s get this over with. We can talk in the lobby.”  
  
“I’d much prefer a neutral location,” Arthur told him. “You can’t always trust everyone in a company. It’s better if we do this out of the office.”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Fine. But this doesn’t change anything.”  
  
Arthur smiled, placing his hand at the small of Merlin’s back and leading him towards the lift. “Oh, but it does.”  
  
Merlin pushed his hand away. “Arthur—“ he warned.  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
He shook his head as the lift doors opened. “Just… Let’s just get this over with,” he repeated.  
  
Arthur smiled at how visibly uncomfortable Merlin was; he couldn’t help but find it adorable. “As you wish, Mr. Emrys.”   
  
  
+  
  
  
“I keep all of my business emails from projects saved on an external hard drive, so I can email those to you when I get back to my apartment,” Merlin said, taking a sip of his tea.  
  
Arthur nodded, thumbing through some documents on his phone.   
  
“So…”  
  
“That’s all I really need, Merlin. This isn’t as big of a deal as Gaius claims,” Arthur told him. “It’s an open and shut case, especially with your evidence and testimony. However, since it’s not one we can ignore, these little meetings are important. It should be resolved within the next couple of weeks.”  
  
“So that’s all?”  
  
Arthur sat back in the seat, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Not entirely.”  
  
“But you just said—“  
  
“How else was I going to get you alone?”  
  
Merlin’s mouth dropped open. “I—“  
  
“Don’t misunderstand, the lawsuit is real and everything. I simply…overstated how long this meeting would take so Gaius would have to excuse you for the day. Though, it wouldn’t have taken much—he’s a family friend and all,” Arthur told him with a smile.   
  
“You—“  
  
“Would you have come to lunch with me if I asked?”  
  
Merlin sighed. “No.”  
  
Arthur smiled. “Then it wasn’t for naught. We need to talk.”  
  
“We don’t _need_  to,” Merlin said quietly. “I have to get back to work.”  
  
“Gaius just emailed me back—I told him we would need the whole day. So… You really don’t have an excuse.”  
  
He shook his head. “This is absurd, Arthur. We don’t have anything to talk about.”  
  
“We do.”  
  
“ _You_  might but I don’t.”  
  
Arthur’s eyebrow rose all on his own. “So you have nothing you’d like to say to me?”  
  
“There are _a lot_  of things that I would like to say to you, Arthur—“  
  
“Then say them!” Arthur declared, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jacket. “Get it all out in the open.”  
  
“You’re not going to give up, are you?”  
  
“Pendragons never give up.”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “I believe I’ve heard that before.”  
  
“Merlin—“  
  
“Look, if we’re going to do this,” he started begrudgingly, “then I insist we take a walk. I feel the people of the café are judging us.”  
  
Arthur smiled because that— _that_ was the Merlin that he remembered. “Of course,” he said, tossing some bills onto the table before following Merlin to the door. He held it open (out of force of habit, he told himself) and ignored the glare he received in his peripheral from Merlin.  
  
“Don’t,” Merlin warned quietly before shoving his hands into his pockets. For early October, it was slightly chilly and he found himself wishing he had worn a jacket over his blazer.  
  
“I wasn’t going to.”  
  
“You were,” Merlin corrected him.  
  
The corner of Arthur’s lips curled upwards and he shook his head, falling into place next to Merlin. After a few minutes and a couple of blocks of silence, he let out a sigh and glanced over at him. “Are you alright, Merlin?” he asked quietly.  
  
Merlin shrugged.   
  
He nodded slowly. “So… I thought we were going to talk?”  
  
“For the longest time, I thought I did something wrong,” Merlin admitted quietly.  
  
“What—“  
  
Merlin made an indecipherable sound, waving Arthur off. “Let me finish.”  
  
Arthur’s mouth snapped shut and he nodded.  
  
“It came out of nowhere. You never really…talked to me about what was going on in your mind, with your family, with…anything. I thought we were doing well, and then you drop this bombshell on me,” Merlin mused quietly. He got to talk about it with Gwen and Morgana (and, hell, even Mr. Gaius had heard part of it before) but never Arthur.  
  
“I tried to call you. But that was before you moved.”  
  
“It wouldn’t have changed anything, Arthur,” he said with a sigh.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because you told me I wasn’t an option any longer,” Merlin said. “You told me I didn’t fit into your plans or your life. There is no way to bounce back from that.”  
  
“I think you’re wrong.”  
  
Merlin sighed. “You always do,” he muttered.  
  
“Not about everything,” Arthur admitted. “I said horrible things. And I hurt you. I hurt you so bad that you moved thousands of miles away to a city that thinks coffee is better than tea,” he said with a slight eye roll.   
  
“Americans,” Merlin said with a small smile.   
  
“I miss you.”  
  
Merlin’s smile faded. He was aware enough to catch the present tense, then wondered why Arthur hadn’t even _tried_  to be subtle. (But, really, _subtle_  and _Pendragon_  weren’t exactly synonymous.) “It’s been…five years,” Merlin said, trying to downplay the emotion that was bubbling up inside of him.  
  
“Yet, I still miss you,” Arthur told him, reaching for his arm. “God, Merlin, please just look at me.”  
  
Merlin stopped walking and finally met Arthur’s eyes, those cool blue orbs that could probably still make him do _anything_ , and he shrugged lightly.  
  
“Do you miss me, too?” he asked, uncharacteristically vulnerable as he trailed his fingers down the fabric of Merlin’s blazer, sliding past his wrist to find his long, slender fingers. The hands that he knew once so well seemed hesitant under his touch, but he didn’t let it deter him.  
  
He took a step back; Arthur followed. Five years was decidedly not enough time for Merlin’s body to no longer be affected by Arthur. God, he was an idiot to ever agree to go to lunch with Arthur. He knew it was a mistake. His fingers started to tingle and he tried to withdraw his hand from Arthur’s, but it didn’t work; he simply tightened his grip.  
  
“I’ve spent the past five years thinking about you every single night, Merlin,” Arthur said quietly.  
  
“You were the one who ended it,” he snapped, jerking his hand away and stepping out of Arthur’s personal space.   
  
Arthur sighed, running a hand over his face. “I know. I made a mistake.”  
  
“You—you—you can’t just throw me out of your life at the drop of a hat and then come back years later and expect me to welcome you with open arms,” Merlin told him.  
  
“I’m not expecting open arms, Merlin. I was only hoping for a second chance.”  
  
“Is that why you’re here then?”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said without hesitation. “I volunteered to come here because I knew you were in the city. I had to see you.”  
  
“Well, you saw me,” Merlin said, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, if you have nothing else to say relevant to the case then I’ll be on my way.” He knew his tone was betraying his stance and he did all he could to avoid Arthur’s eyes. Even though he always felt as if he didn’t know Arthur well enough, he was always an open book to Arthur.   
  
Arthur took another step toward Merlin. “Do you really think this brief interaction is enough for me?”  
  
“Still the same Arthur, I see, only caring about how things affect you,” Merlin denounced bitterly.  
  
“That’s not always true. I missed my first law exam because you were sick. I almost failed and Uther would have disowned me if I had,” Arthur pointed out.  
  
“I didn’t ask you to—“  
  
“No, you begged me through a mess of tissues, tea, and Doctor Who. I happily obliged because you’ve always meant more to me than school,” he said.  
  
Merlin bit the inside of his cheek. “Just not more than your father’s opinion of your sexuality?”  
  
“I thought you didn’t. It took me this long to realize that your opinion is the only one that truly matters to me.”  
  
  
+  
  
  
Merlin couldn’t take his eyes off of the golden head of hair on the pillow next to his own. If Gwen had told him two days prior that he would have Arthur Pendragon in his bed, he would’ve called her a filthy liar and told her to get a new hobby. Yet, there he was. Arthur Pendragon was wrapped up in his black sheets, one leg over Merlin’s hips, holding him down as if he knew, just _knew_ , that Merlin might try to make a run for it. (Though, it was his apartment, so that would have been rather awkward.)   
  
But, really, he didn’t want to leave. He ran his hands over Arthur’s hair, causing him to nuzzle into his side, and he heard his phone vibrate on the bedside table. He reached over; picking it up to see a text from Gwen indicating that she was staying with Lance that night (of course).   
  
The knock on his apartment door startled him and he cursed under his breath. He slowly extracted himself from Arthur’s limbs, pulling on the first pair of pants he saw (he was pretty sure they were Arthur’s because, well, they were a little short).  
  
“S’what wrong?” Arthur mumbled, his face buried in the pillow.  
  
“Not sure. I’ll be right back,” Merlin told him.  
  
Arthur reached out for his hand. “Promise?”  
  
He flushed lightly, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “Promise.”  
  
“Better hurry back,” Arthur said, releasing his hand to wipe at his eyes. “Because I’m not done with you just yet.” Even half asleep and completely disheveled, he still managed to look devastatingly handsome and, yeah, Merlin kind of couldn’t wait to join him.   
  
Merlin laughed before walking out of his room to open the apartment door. “Shit,” he cursed, running a hand through his hair.  
  
Gwaine’s eyebrows rose. “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting,” he admitted, glancing awkwardly at the bottle of wine in his hand.  
  
“So sorry,” Merlin said, crossing his arms over his chest (even though, alright, Gwaine had seen him in a lot less than just a pair of pants before). “I, um, didn’t know you were coming over.”  
  
“I told you I would if you didn’t call me,” Gwaine said with a smile.   
  
Merlin bit his lip.  
  
“Unless…you’re busy?”   
  
“I’m so sorry, Gwaine,” Merlin started. “I… I should’ve told you…”  
  
“He was a little busy.”  
  
Merlin turned to see Arthur standing in the doorway of his room, his bed sheet wrapped around his waist. He cleared his throat—there was _no_ way that Arthur could look _that_ good. It had to be impossible. “Arthur,” he whispered harshly.   
  
“Well, you were. You can’t really send out a text informing people that your plans have changed when your dick is down my—“  
  
  
“Arthur!” Merlin yelled, flushing deeply and reaching up to cover his face.

  
Arthur smiled, clearly proud of himself, and he fixed Gwaine with a steady glare.   
  
Gwaine glanced between the two of them. “I really don’t think this is something I want to get mixed up in,” he said with a slow nod. He handed the bottle of wine to Merlin and leaned in, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll see you Monday,” he told him before closing the door behind him.  
  
Merlin shook his head and walked towards the kitchen, setting the bottle of wine on the counter. “I cannot believe you said that.”  
  
“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend,” Arthur countered, arms crossed over his chest, the sheet riding dangerously low on his hips.   
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“Just a fuck buddy?”  
  
“I’m allowed to have sex with whoever I want, Arthur,” Merlin told him. “Don’t tell me _you’ve_  been celibate these past five years.”  
  
Arthur shrugged—okay, that was true. “Are you actually mad at me?”  
  
“Quite,” Merlin said ambivalently.   
  
With a groan, Arthur ran a hand over his hair. “I wanted to get rid of him. I don’t like sharing.”  
  
“I was trying to get him to leave,” he said. “And…don’t… There’s nothing to share.”  
  
“Really? Was he not coming over here to woo you?”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Gwaine was not going to woo me.”  
  
“Wine? No man brings another man wine unless they want to woo them,” Arthur told him.  
  
“Oh, is that the protocol of your people now?” he snapped. “Because us commoners aren’t so fancy.”  
  
Arthur scoffed. “You’re anything but common, Merlin,” he said quietly. He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want to argue about wine or the attractive (well, if one thought tall-dark-and-handsome-with-a-devilish-smirk was attractive) man at Merlin’s door at midnight or Merlin’s sexcapades.   
  
Merlin felt his shoulders tense up. He had been prepared for a fight. After all, that’s all he and Arthur seemed to do lately (or, well, in the past twelve hours). He was ready for an argument, for words to be thrown, feelings hurt; he was prepared to send Arthur packing. Part of him had been looking for a reason to send Arthur packing for hours, but…there wasn’t one. Maybe people could change, maybe they couldn’t, but Arthur was always Merlin’s first choice.  
  
“Merlin?” Arthur asked softly.  
  
He was surprised to see Arthur had bridged the gap between them, his hands finding Merlin’s cheeks. “Don’t,” he whispered.  
  
“How can I fix this, fix us?” Arthur asked.  
  
“I don’t know if you can.”  
  
“I need to.”  
  
Merlin sighed; he hadn’t felt an influx of emotions like that in five years. “I should hate you,” he said quietly, only a hint of humor in his voice to offset the pain. “You kicked me to the curb five years ago. Then you show up like a bloody golden angel, kiss me, and… Well, you know what happened back there,” he said, nodding towards his bedroom. “I’ve spent so much time hating you, or trying to convince myself that hating you was the right option, because I didn’t want the daily reminder that…I’m still fucking in love with you.”  
  
Arthur smiled softly. “I could never even try to hate you. I’ve spent five years trying to find out, trying to figure out how to make this right, when I knew I didn’t deserve it.”  
  
“You…tried to find me?”  
  
“Of course,” Arthur said. “All Morgana said was that you left London. No one would tell me anything. You got to admit, you won all the kids in the divorce. They all despised me.”  
  
“I never wanted them to hate you, Arthur.”  
  
“They should have. I hated myself.”  
  
Merlin leaned forward and rested his head on Arthur’s bare shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to; he knew Arthur well enough to know when he wanted to engage in conversation and when he wanted to share his thoughts.   
  
“Father sent me away. That’s why I’m in New York,” Arthur confessed. “I told him I wasn’t going to marry Sophia; I wasn’t going to be the perfect son who gave him grandsons to follow in his footsteps. I told him I made a mistake, and that I want to make him happy…but I want to make you happy more. I managed to sweet talk Morgana into telling me where you were, but that’s all I could get out of her. I met Lance and he mentioned dinner with Gwen and Merlin, and I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I didn’t walk into that restaurant by chance, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin pulled away and met Arthur’s eyes; Arthur wasn’t sentimental. He didn’t ramble or expose himself, he never made himself vulnerable, and he never took the blame. Yet, there he was, doing all of those things he refused to do before. Merlin didn’t expect a drastic change, but the pain mingled with love that he saw in Arthur’s eyes was enough to convince him. He cupped Arthur’s cheeks in his hands and leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a way that was familiar and new at the same time. It was chaste, simple, uncomplicated—everything that they _weren’t_  and he pulled away smiling.   
  
Arthur felt like home.  
  
  
+  
  
  
Monday morning, Merlin couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. Even though he spent most of the morning evading text messages from Gwen asking what exactly was going on with him and Arthur (he still didn’t know), he was still in a good mood. The only thing he wasn’t looking forward to was confronting Gwaine; he felt he owed his friend an explanation, one he didn’t have the chance to offer with Arthur invading the conversation.   
  
He sought him out at eight-forty five since he hadn’t yet seen him, surprised to find him lounging at his computer. “Hi.”  
  
Gwaine glanced over at him, smiling softly. “Good morning.”  
  
“How was your weekend?” Merlin asked, leaning against his desk.   
  
“Not as good as yours, I’d wager,” Gwaine said with a small laugh.  
  
Merlin bit his lip, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wanted to…apologize, again, and explain Friday night…”  
  
“You really don’t have to, Merlin,” Gwaine assured him.   
  
“I didn’t expect anything to happen. And I really should have sent you a text to let you know—“  
  
Gwaine interrupted him by placing his hand on his knee. “It’s alright, Merlin. I want you to be happy. I just…didn’t know you and Arthur were back together.”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t…know if we’re actually… _together_  or not,” he answered.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
Merlin let out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know,” he said, a slight whine dragging out the last syllable. “I don’t know if I’m ready to take that leap.”  
  
“You were ready to leap into bed with him,” Gwaine pointed out.   
  
“That’s—“  
  
“Different?”  
  
He nodded slowly. “He’s… Arthur. I’ve never really been able to deny him, you know?”  
  
“Do you still love him?” Gwaine asked.  
  
Merlin smiled. “I never stopped.”  
  
“Then you need to go for it and not let anything hold you back,” Gwaine told him.   
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Gwaine nodded. “Don’t let what happened years ago prevent what could happen now. If you truly love him, he deserves a second chance. And so do you. You’ve not dated a single person since I’ve known you. You love him, and he flew across the pond to see you—that’s gotta mean something.”

 

+  
  
  
 _I think I put your shirt on this morning. I’m gonna be uncomfortable all day because of you, Merlin._  
  
Merlin smiled as he read the text message, looking over his shoulder to make sure that no one was watching. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have his mobile on him at work. But, well, technically no one cared.  
  
 **I’ll make it up to you later. Promise.**  
  
 _You better. Be at mine tonight. Six o’clock sharp. Wear something nice._  
  
 **I always wear something nice.**  
  
 _But not something too expensive. I don’t want it to be a loss when I rip it off of you._  
  
 **Behave, Arthur. I’m at work here.**  
  
Merlin shoved his phone into the pocket of his pants, trying to fight the flush that was creeping up the back of his neck. He wasn’t Arthur—he didn’t have the ability to remain cool, calm and collected when his…whatever Arthur was to him…was sending him _those_  kinds of messages. With as much energy as he could muster, he made it through the workday and managed to only get scolded by Mr. Gaius twice. He worked through his lunch break and snuck out of work fifteen minutes early so he could change before he made his way to Arthur’s penthouse.   
  
True to his word, he wore something nice—his favorite black jeans, a blue plaid button up, and his black jacket over it. He shoved a clean shirt into his satchel next to his laptop (because, honestly, he knew he wasn’t going to come home that night) before texting Arthur, informing him that he was on his way over.   
  
“You look amazing,” Arthur greeted him when he opened the door.  
  
Merlin flushed. “Thanks, I—I look—I mean, you—you look, uh…you know, you look very, uh—“  
  
“Thank you,” Arthur interrupted with a smirk on his face.  
  
He laughed nervously, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d been in this situation before. He’d been in this situation for two years. Yet, he was nervous around Arthur for the first time in years. Maybe it was because Arthur had the ability to make him feel on top of the world or like a pile of dirt at the drop of a hat.   
  
“How was work?” he asked, ushering Merlin inside.  
  
He shrugged. “It was alright. Though Mr. Gaius got on my case multiple times because someone wouldn’t stop sending me text messages.”  
  
Arthur smiled, pressing his lips to Merlin’s cheek. “Sorry—I couldn’t help myself. I was in a dreadfully dull meeting. But picturing you blushing as I sent those, that made it worth it,” he told him with a wink before retreating into the kitchen.  
  
Merlin looked around briefly before following him. He froze in the doorway when he saw Arthur stirring a pot on the stove. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Cooking,” Arthur offered with a questioning look on his face.  
  
“You don’t cook—you have people cook for you,” Merlin told him.  
  
Arthur smiled. “I’ve been cooking on my own for a couple years now,” he said. “I’m not a genius, but I don’t think even _I_ can mess up pasta.”  
  
“You better not—you know how I feel about Alfredo sauce,” Merlin replied, walking over to the counter next to the stove and sitting upon it. All right, he told himself, Arthur had changed—even if it was just slightly. And he couldn’t deny how adorable he looked when he was concentrating so hard. Without realizing it, he started laughing.  
  
“What?” Arthur asked, glancing up from the pot, his icy blue eyes wide.  
  
Merlin shrugged carelessly. “I simply never thought I’d ever see you slaving over a hot stove to fix me dinner when I get home from work,” he told him with a smile.  
  
Arthur laughed. “I know. Shouldn’t you be making _me_  dinner, Merlin?”  
  
“No, thanks, you look too cute right now.”  
  
“Cute?” Arthur asked incredulously. “I’ll have you know, Merlin, I’m far more than _cute_.”  
  
Merlin smiled and was on the verge of replying when Arthur’s mobile rang.  
  
With a curse, Arthur picked it up from the counter and rolled his eyes. “Can you stir the sauce for me, please?”  
  
He nodded and jumped off the counter, taking Arthur’s place and stirring the sauce as Arthur stepped out of the room to take his phone call. Gwaine was right—he should give Arthur another chance. Well, in a way, he already was—otherwise he wouldn’t have gone to his penthouse. His head was arguing with him—was he actually ready? But his heart knew the answer; he had been waiting for five years. He was lost in his own thoughts and didn’t even realize Arthur had stepped up behind him until he felt his arms around his waist.  
  
“A little jumpy, aren’t you?” Arthur asked, chuckling against the side of his neck before brushing his lips across Merlin’s ear.   
  
“Never. You’re imagining things,” Merlin told him with a small smile. He couldn’t stop the way his body involuntary reacted around Arthur—his head tilting in the opposite direction, giving Arthur better access.  
  
Arthur slid his hands under Merlin’s button-up, fingertips brushing over the trail of dark hair that disappeared under his pants.   
  
Merlin cleared his throat, but nothing was able to distract him from Arthur.   
  
“I want to ask you something,” Arthur whispered in his ear, sliding his hand under the waistband of Merlin’s pants. “And the way I see it, I could probably get you to agree to murdering a priest right now.”  
  
Merlin choked back a laugh, trying to play it off but, well, it was the truth. He was simply under the influence that was Arthur—intoxicating and overwhelming in every single way.   
  
“And I want you to be coherent when I actually ask you,” Arthur said, removing his hand from Merlin’s pants and reaching over the stove to turn off the burners.   
  
“Arthur, what about dinner—“  
  
“Screw dinner,” Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. He grabbed Merlin’s hand and tried dragged him away from the kitchen. “Would you honestly rather cook or—“  
  
Merlin cut him off by pressing their lips together. He smiled against his lips before he took a step back. “As enticing as the prospect of going to bed with you is, I think I’d rather eat,” he said quietly.  
  
Arthur groaned and grabbed Merlin’s hips, pulling his body flush against his own. “But aren’t I more appealing than dinner?” he asked, pressing his lips to the side of Merlin’s throat.  
  
“If I don’t eat, I fear I won’t have energy for much of anything,” Merlin replied quietly.  
  
Arthur hummed against his neck. “Good point,” he conceded before reaching for Merlin’s hand and leading him to the couch. “I’ll be right back with dinner.” Arthur ruffled Merlin’s hair before retreating back into the kitchen. He strained the noodles before separating the pasta into two bowls. He set them on the counter, and then filled two glasses with wine; tucking the silverware into the pocket of his jeans, he balanced the bowls on his arm, picking up the two wine glasses with one hand, and he walked back to the living room. He said a quick prayer when he realized he had successfully carried everything without dropping it, and he sat down beside Merlin. He handed him a glass of wine and a bowl, before removing the silverware from his pocket.  
  
“This smells delicious,” Merlin commented, taking a sip of his wine.  
  
Arthur set his wine on the coffee table, watching Merlin as he took a tentative bite of the pasta. When Merlin smiled, Arthur did, too; at least he had done _something_  right.  
  
“Why are you staring at me?” Merlin asked with a quiet laugh.  
  
Arthur shrugged and he started to eat his meal in silence.  
  
Merlin practically licked the bowl clean before setting it on the coffee table and finishing his wine. “That was delicious.”  
  
“Thank you,” Arthur said, his bowl joining Merlin’s on the table. He settled back on the couch, his eyes finding Merlin’s with an ease that was more familiar and comfortable than he was expecting.  
  
“Was making me dinner all a part of your master plan?” Merlin asked, a smile on his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes.  
  
“It depends on whether or not it’s working.”  
  
Merlin pulled his knees up to his chest, fixing Arthur with a steady stare. “Gwaine told me I should give you another chance.”  
  
Arthur’s eyebrows rose. “So he had something worthwhile to say?”  
  
Merlin laughed. “You really don’t like him, do you?”  
  
“I don’t like anyone who’s gotten to touch you when I haven’t been able to,” Arthur told him.  
  
Merlin’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head. “He told me I shouldn’t let the past dictate our future.”  
  
Arthur tried not to get too excited, even though Merlin had said “our” future, indicating that he, well, perhaps that he _was_ going to give Arthur another chance. “And?”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Are you going to listen to him?” he asked.   
  
“I was thinking about it,” Merlin said thoughtfully.  
  
Arthur smiled. “Yeah?”  
  
“You gotta promise me something, though.”  
  
The smile fell from Arthur’s face quickly. “Merlin, you know I can’t—“  
  
“You have to promise to talk to me,” Merlin told him. “If you’re worried, if you’re having doubts, if…you just have to talk to me. I don’t want to be left in the dark, for you to just…leave again—“  
  
“I don’t plan on leaving, Merlin—“  
  
“I—You say that now. But it doesn’t even matter,” he added quickly. “I just need to know that you’ll actually communicate with me.”  
  
“I will,” Arthur said. “I know my words might be meaningless, so I’ll just have to prove it to you. If you give me the chance.”  
  
Merlin didn’t reply.  
  
Arthur switched positions on the couch until he was sitting directly next to Merlin; he cupped his face in his hands and forced their eyes to meet. “I love you, Merlin. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’re all I want and all I need.”  
  
Merlin smiled and pressed their lips together. “I love you, too.”  
  
Arthur laughed and kissed Merlin again; his taste was familiar and new at the same time. He knew that even though he planned on spending the rest of his life memorizing the taste of Merlin, he would never get enough. Arthur had an insatiable appetite when it came to the scrawny man pressed against him.  
  
Merlin pulled away slowly, running his hands down the front of Arthur’s chest. “Bedroom?”  
  
Arthur nodded, kissing Merlin again, before pulling back and smiling. There was no where else he’d rather be than in Merlin’s arms.  

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Merthur (ever) and my first time posting here so... Be gentle? Maybe? (I shouldn't be so nervous about posting this.) Or not. I hope you enjoyed it! (Also, I'm pathetically American so this might be a ludicrous attempt at actually making my character sound British so... I suck? Perhaps. Anyway.) (Also cross-posted at my Mibba account under the same user name.) (I also really like using parenthesis.)


End file.
